The Late Hours
by Elfwine
Summary: It's just one of those nights. A creepy moon, two misbehaving runaways and one silly Ranger. What kind of calculation will come of this?


**The Late Hours**

"Once during an early summer we would ride out every full moon. I remember when my friends would tease me about the dark. But after living in forest for a few decades one can become quite use to prowling spiders and strange noises." I smile while listening to Legolas' tale, Gimli grumbling in the background. This is one of those nights. The Hobbits have questioned use closely, prying for answers about our homes and family. Both Legolas and Boromir have proved to be willing subjects. The Fellowship is content for once, and I will not disturb their peace.

Gandalf is puffing his pip and Sam is rattling pots near the fire. I give him a pointed look but my mouth is crooked with a tempting smile and his relief is plain once he sees this. I know there will always be a sense of tension and uncertainty within our group, sometimes there will be misunderstandings and much bantering amongst ourselves.

"What about the white doe?" I turn to look at Boromir's curious expression, his hands cupping a stale piece of bread, the blade of his knife bitten halfway through the core. Gandalf shifts in his seat, a log covered in lichen and mummers to himself. "I have heard tale such a thing exists in your forest." The Gondorian captain shrugs, his voice has an edge of defense. I think he feels embarrassed for asking such a question and I wonder of this. Boromir brushes a strained of hair from his face, uncovering lines of strain that pull at his hard skin. I have noticed this trip has been difficult for him, and that he finds little rest. Legolas eyes shine with that familiar amusement he holds against all Men.

"It is the fabled Albino you speak of." He says. "When he was young my grandfather claimed that he once watched a white doe leap a river, but no one has told tales such as this since." Besides Gandalf I am the only one who appears to have perceived the sadness in his voice. Mentioning his grandfather is infrequent during public conversation. Boromir leans back in thought, but it is Pippin who breaks the growing silence.

"A whole river you say?"

"That is absurd!" Gimli's blunt remark even starts Legolas and the whole group seems to sigh within. "I have never seen or heard of such a thing. The Elf must have seen lights flashing on the water; the sun plays tricks on us all." The Dwarf nods assuredly. "Just how wide was this river?" He asks tersely.

Legolas looks uninterested, a sign that his resolve is wearing thin, but I see he is struggling to hold back his frustration. This is not an uncommon course for conversation, this has happened before.

"I never said that it was seen during the day..." But I barley hear Legolas' full response, for I am seated across from him. Slightly concerned Boromir leans closer to me. I can already guess his next verse.

He speaks quietly, as if afraid the others will listen in. "I think we should alter the present topic. This does us no good anyway. I could cut in if they-."

But it is Frodo who interrupts and this surprises me. "Think of all the strange wonders we have seen since we left." His voice grows thoughtful and soft. "If Legolas says there is such an animal I hope so. We need a few things in this world that are good and pure."

Gimli looks taken aback, but remains quiet while Legolas crosses his legs under himself, with an impassive expression. Gandalf chuckles, his sharp gray eyes lively with newfound amusement. "A fine and beautiful thought for us all." He says.

I blink moist from my eyes, the flames of our fire is scalding and almost blinding, but still comforting against my body.

"However there is such an animal." Gandalf looks to Boromir, then to Gimli. "And they have been known to jump farther and higher than any white tail." Frodo looks pleased and I smile at the thought.

"I can understand it is hard to accept such an animal exists." Hopefully Legolas sounds sensible. I know he is trying to compose amity with Gimli, a rare effort from either of them. "At first _I_ didn't believe my father when he told me. I just scrunched up my face like so and pretended to listen." Gimli looked as if he had eaten something awful for super, but Sam appears amused by Legolas' mockery and grins at the Elf's sour expression.

"Eye, we have plenty of stories concerning odd creatures roaming the countryside ourselves." The Hobbit says, referring to his own kind. After several unbelieving faces though he looks at Frodo for support and asks, "You remember what Bilbo said about those giant hairs?" Frodo shakes his head thoughtfully, but Pippin joins the discussion keenly.

"I remember them Sam, the one spring you would go out in the mornings and find your garden in disarray. I heard they could eat a cabbage whole with just one bite. And they can jump any picket fence. A nuisance they were." Pippin says with a silly smirk.

Merry leans over and murmurs to his cousin, "_I_ told you that Pip." Gandalf suddenly coughs a laugh, stumbling over the smoke mounting from his pipe. Boromir looks utterly confused by this new claim, frowning with his lowered brows while Legolas appears uncertain, however neither appears disbelieving. Pippin then asks his cousin if it was a true claim, but I don't wait to hear Merry's reply.

It is Gimli who speaks next. "I know one magical creature you all seemed to have forgotten." Now even Gandalf looks puzzled by this statement, but Gimli doesn't wait for any reckonings. Instead he says, "I judge the dragon to be the most trying of the lot."

I can't help but notice all the different reactions that take place just now. Frodo is actually beaming with delight, possibly thinking of Bilbo. Boromir clears his throat, probably uncomfortable for this is something entirely new to him. Since the council I understand he has found it had to digest many of our fantastic stories. Legolas is pretending not to notice by looking at the toes of his shoes. Gandalf however is the only one I struggle reading, his eyes look dulled and his movements are slow as he toys with his pipe.

"I had no reason to believe that they existed anymore." Boromir articulates, looking quite baffled. "I thought Bilbo made it very clear during the council that Smug was the last." I can see the concern in his eyes and this interests me. He has probably encountered more dark creatures with us than he ever will in Gondor. This is something that I greatly hope.

"Thank Eru, he was." Gimli laughs. "Bard the Bowman downed him over Lake Town, as the story goes. But I think dragons, even as dangerous and cunning as they are, are probably the most interesting. From what Bilbo told us Smug liked riddles and he loved his treasure. Of _that_ I have no doubt." Legolas looks as if he is about to speak, but patiently awaits Gimli instead. "My father said he could eat a pony whole, and that is not so hard to imagine considering how big Bilbo made him."

Pippin's eyes grow large and he chuckles. "My goodness, he was big! Our giant hairs have nothing on old Smug the dragon now don't they Sam?" Sam bobs his head and snaps another twig in two.

-()-

Gimli can be quite silent on watch; very little passes from his lips save for cheerful tunes and wordless murmurs as he circles the camp. He looks at ease. Most would imagine that he is a noisy creature, but only once advancing upon others. I am able to admit that Gimli is quite practical in a fight; fierce and quick with each and every challenge. But there is prejudice as well, something we hold in common. He is also greatly aware, warriors must be. I find faults yet he sees mine. Never have I thought that vanity was my strength, but at times it has served as my shield. The people of my father's woods have a mixed history of violence and great loss, and those who consider us weak and brittle know little. I think that the trials at home have made me this way. _Perhaps not_.

There are no freshly laid prints or figures lurking in the shadows so I turn to watch the camp, looking over each member carefully. Estel and Boromir have cast themselves next to the fire, their faces hidden in the shadows of the night. The sword of Eldendil is propped against the Ranger's worn leather pack. As if rejoicing the blade glares fiercely in the light of the flames. Boromir has rested the back of his head upon the crest of his broad shield, peacefully oblivious. This posture looks uncomfortable to me and it is a wonder he can even fall asleep in such fashion. The Hobbits are gathered around one another, sharing each other's warmth and heartening presence. I smile at this and look at Frodo who appears to be drowned in a deep, calming sleep. His face is pressed into the crook of his arm, an Elven cloak providing protection from the elements. Mithrandir's back is against a tall silver maple, his eyes closed and knees drawn in. Everyone is out but Gimli. I search the sky for further comfort.

To the human eye it would seem the stars have disappeared, but they have only dimmed. I have seen this before, and hardly does it ever bring me comfort. I will have to wait a long while before their harmony returns. Black clouds have moved away, unveiling a beautiful moon. Even without the brilliance of the stars the air is alight and stirring. After many minutes I struggle to extend my sight beyond its natural bounds.

Through the blackness I can see the closing of the grove and the creek that runs behind it, but it is unmoving, gently sleeping. Somewhere the animals have gone, into deeper darkness. Their absence is greatly saddening and somewhat discomforting. I listen for their calls and cries, but nothing sounds. The air seems tasteless and the chorus of nature has ended. Soft droplets of humidity shine upon the ground, crowning the grass and flora like a net of stars. A strangeness oppresses my conscience, tempting a ticklish irritation and alarm that begins to rule my soul. Abruptly I feel alone though I am not. The moonlight has moved through the trees, seeping in soft cool waves of brilliance across the clearing like the exterior of the Sea. I hear Bill's wiled shrilling cry and then listen as it fades away. There is fear in his voice.

Suddenly I feel hands grabbing my shoulder and everything closest to me comes into greater focus. Estel's voice is in my ear. I now realize that the Ranger has a hold of my arm and is shaking me. _How long has he been at my side_? It startles me when I grasp a better understanding of what is happening. The camp is in confusion, everyone is awake and alert. Frodo stands before us, his eyes large and worried. The ring bearer's definite safety comforts me. I can hear Sam trying to calm Bill who I see is romping and jerking about, an odd behavior for such a gentle beast, but I understand why. Merry and Pippin are talking hurriedly, shaken by such a unatural jolt and tromping around the fire, their Elven cloaks look like heavy shadows at their backs. Mithrandir is speaking above the ruckus, taking charge and seemingly unaffected. This comes in such a rush it almost pains me, but also relieves me of every offensive emotion. I feel frustrated as well, disappointed in my lack of self-control. How could I just stand there and do nothing? _But nothing really terrible has happened_…

"You and Gimli saw it before the rest of us." Mithrandir says his voice solemn and heavy. I recognize it is not a question and recover quickly, checking my balance while avoiding the guide of gentle hands. The two warriors stand back, their eyes watching the grove with suspicion. Looking at Gimli I can see his dark eyes glaring with question. I cannot recall asking for Gimli, but somehow he has come to stand by my side. Estel appears confused, his hair tinted with silver tones. _Ithil _has transformed the night to day, its colors giving the shadows a translucent bearing, tanning the darkness and crawling over the ground in shinning hues of blue and white. The clouds have fully departed, unveiling a starless, scenic backdrop. Every groove and drop in the earth is black or deep in color.

I feel inept as I take an attentive step forward and say, "I saw moonlight, but nothing strange. Only the animals…" Estel looks at me thoughtfully, his gaze almost silent. "Did none of you _feel_ it?" I ask, looking at each of their tired faces. My throat is arid. Only Gimli inclines his head in affirmation, but this does not surprise me. Besides Mithrandir he would be the only one to suffer such impressions. The others must have been asleep.

"This will pass swiftly, but we should secure the grove." A small luster shines in Mithrandir's eyes like good humor and I shudder, but I am not cold. Estel see this and turns to Boromir who looks a little lost, awkwardly awake. I know what is next to come.

-()-

The bristle of leaves sound like harsh whispers as we run beneath the high boughs. Moonlight crowns the treetops, covering every hallow and empty space with bluish hues. Boromir is quick with light breathing, his hands gripping the glinting hilt of a drawn long sword. His footsteps are surprisingly soft and quiet upon approach. Under the fierce light his hair is muted in color, but also intensified with an aura of silver and mine raven black or blue under glaring openings in the canopies. The shadows and light follow our shapes, surrounding our bodies with lines and darkness. Our eyes find each other and he dips his head in silent greeting. I have grown use to this Man of few words, though it is not an impolite impression to me. Boromir can be good company and conduct interesting conversations. I think he is curious of us all, and yet there is a small suspicion that he is also struggling to trust. This worries me.

Breaking these troubling musings I look about us. Gandalf is nearby, having left Gimli and Legolas to watch the Hobbits while they recover. I was not surprised he decided to lead us into the grove and make certain nothing threatening had entered this place after the strange occurrence. Gimli and Legolas refuses to speak of it because there is little left unsaid. But I cannot help feel as if there is more to this eerie atmosphere. Boromir is now before me, only a few feet of space between us as we blink at each other through the brilliant moonlight that rolls like a fog across the surrounding wilderness. It's cold.

"I found nothing amiss on my side." He says, barley louder than a sigh. I am surprised to detect a hint of excitement in his voice. He's blameless. Hunts during a night like this one can cause great unrest. Little has happened since we set out, and for that I am grateful. Quietly I pray that our journey remains uneventful for as long as possible. Such interruptions would only make it harder for Frodo, and I wonder how long we have before our greatest enemy finally confronts us.

"My own report is much the same." I admit, "I have nothing. Not a remnant of strange presences can be found." Had they all flown over that would explain my lack of discoveries. We are both put off by such realizations. Boromir is acting slowly, though not ungraceful. To come up with nothing has me thrashing inside. It's quite unsettling, especially how bright the woods are and how bare the ground. All the animals seem to have disappeared, unsettled and scared off it seems, but by what exactly? I should speak of this with the others later.

"Aragorn?" I turned to look at Boromir, his face has a measuring look. "What _exactly_ are we looking for?"

I wish I knew the answer.

"Gandalf wanted us to report what we have seen, but I think it will be what we have not." For a moment Boromir stares at me, though I can't read his expression so well, now that a dark shadow has passed over us. I begin to feel as if he is waiting for something and finally I say, "Gandalf might suspect that there is more to Bill's behavior. I doubt it." He nods briefly and ducks under a weak branch, his movements heavier than before. Wondrously I keep walking. Gandalf must have sent us because the rest of the group. Coming back without any sightings of danger would calm everyone, and possibly help the others sleep better. As if thinking similarly we both look up at the starless sky, our eyes and faces lit by the light of the pale moon, few shadows trace her stone-like features.

"Even shorn of the stars it's very beautiful." Boromir says thoughtfully, searching the air with a questioning gaze. "Though fairly disturbing."

Quickly I agree. "I have never seen any before that stand in comparison. This night could be mistaken for the day if one has woken early, and it makes our search less difficult." I then look at Boromir and say, "Let us leave this place, the others must be wondering after us. Gandalf should be finished with his own tracking, but he might have been less fortune as to have found _something_." Boromir shakes his head and we both move off into the trees, away from the natural trail. Shadows separate us amongst the reaching branches and broken paths of red dirt. Only the sound of falling leaves and crumbling grass under our weight can be heard. I see that Boromir is looking askance, not wildly but skeptically.

Unfortunately there are many things neither of us cannot explain; not even to ourselves. This beckons more thoughts and questions to my mind. I do not only wonder what he thinks of us, but what he thinks of _me_. At times I feel he does not approve or even want my coming. I have never made an effort of acquiring approval with desperation before; my respects and best wishes must always be genuine. Under the watchful eyes of my elders and friends I struggle to choose my path. Hopefully he will come to understand why it has taken me so long to decide if this be my destiny. But how do I follow such a course when the current road leads to doom? This journey is not without hope; I still harbor the desire to watch the black tower fall unto ruin. To see life return to Legolas home and the darkness vanish from the borders of Gondor. Perhaps we will both see the white city renewed, and another age come to pass.

Boromir comes to a stop and exhales, his face turned northeast. A breeze reaches for our hair and cloths, soothing and comforting, for it is warm against our skin. It is like the fingers of a mother beckoning her child home.

Suddenly he grabs my arm and pulls me closer, gazing into the darkness of a split tree. It is a slender maple, without buds or leaves. A dying form of life, black and damp inside, injured by white fire from the sky. Legolas would have walked right up to it, and if Gimli were with him he would grumbled in complaint. The thought makes me smile softly.

Taking a step closer I move ahead of Boromir and wait patiently to see what he does that I do not. My eyes focus and I find the edges of a figure, its shadows lighter than our own. The sound of a heartbeat comes quickly and I roughly shove Boromir aside as a leaping animal breaks away and out of the tree. Moonlight unveils a pale deer and I fall ungraciously into the high grass, barley missing the reaching antlers. My hands feel pricked and cut by the low thorn bushes growing hidden beneath the greenery.

I change my position and kneel in the weeds, listening to Boromir's footsteps and the sound of the animal's hasty retreat. As it passes into the nearby trees mocking laughter erupts through the air and I glare into the darkness. Boromir shakes his head and walks over to me, struggling to control his amusement and bends over to help me up. Trying to sooth my pride I accept his outstretched hand and rise, brushing dirt from my worn cloths. Still smiling he chuckles and continues in the same direction as before. "It seems we have found the animals!" Muttering and grumbling I follow after his voice. Boromir's hearty laughter trickles over the sound of nature's song and I start to run.

-()-

"They have been gone for hours!" Pippin growls. "When will Strider and Boromir be back? And what about Gandalf? What if they found something?" Sam groans softly as he rolls over and looks at the younger Hobbit. Why couldn't this one just quite down, wonders Sam, he might wake Frodo. _What has gotten into him anyway_?

"Please Pip, no more talking, we're already having a hard time going to sleep enough as it is, don't make this worse." Sam chides quietly. "You heard what Gandalf said, it's just this weather getting everyone rallied up." He waves his hand at the sky, feeling subconscious.

Pippin sits up with the support of his elbows and asks pointedly, "But how does he _know_ that? What if it there's something terribly wrong? What if-"

"Pippin!" The two Hobbits suddenly realize that Gimli is standing right in front of them, his voice filled with warning and his face expressing great disapproval. Rarely has he ever used such a tone against them, and this new firmness nearly shocks the two Hobbits speechless. Sam can't help but feel relieved by this timely interruption, who knows what else the Hobbit would have said. "If you don't go to sleep I'll make you join with Legolas to meet Gandalf and you can see for ye'self that there is nothing within hundred miles of this place." Gimli exhales and utters softly, "I doubt such a stroll would do anyone much good however reassuring. Now get some rest lads, and stop your fretting. There will be enough time in the morning for Gandalf and the others to satisfy your prys." Before anything can be said Gimli moves away and goes to stand at the edge of the fire light, his hands resting on the hilt of his great battle axe.

Sam then looks for Legolas and spots a glint of burnished gold a little ways from camp. The moonlight is tracing his figure as he walks away, each stride smooth and quick, almost feline. Strangely Sam has always enjoyed Gimli's company primarily out of the two. Legolas seems more distant than the Dwarf who is usually loud and cheerful. Though the Elf is slightly eccentric and always light hearted, he is constantly in disagreement with practically Gimli's judgment. Sometimes they are not so developed, as old as they are. Legolas and Gimli could act like children and never apologize for their rude behavior. He thinks it must be this moon causing all the hysterics. But at the moment they seemed to have constructed a silent truce and Sam hopes that it remains until noon tomorrow at least. The group could desperately use a good, clean morning after such a night. Taking one last look at the sky Sam closes his eyes and slowly begins to drift away.

-()-

Tossing and turning in the dirt is not very comforting or soothing. After many nights of sleeping outside Pippin assumed he would grow use to it…eventually. It is worth following Frodo and Sam, Pippin wants to support his friends, but those black riders make the experience a lot worse. Now he wonders if he should have followed Legolas as Gimli threatened. The fire is still bright, constantly fed by the Dwarf with twigs and broken branches. Though they hadn't argued much, Pippin thinks Legolas meeting with Gandalf was an excuse to get away from Gimli. Maybe that was what triggered such a harsh reaction from the Dwarf earlier? In some small way Legolas' absence could serve as an advantage to his plan.

Rolling over Pippin pokes his cousin in the shoulder. Merry is already awake, looking up at the sky with his hands propped on his chest. Sam and Frodo are sleeping, their backs face to face.

"Pippin?" Merry looks at his cousin. Peering at Gimli, Pippin makes sure their guard is busy tending the flames. Merry reluctantly scoots closer to him, searching for any signs of mischief in the other's eyes. "What?" He asks, silently hoping to hear something reasonable no matter how useless it might seem.

Pippin faces Merry and says, "Well I just thought we could go find Legolas like Gimli said. They might have found something. Gandalf wouldn't say much of what is going on; I just want to know the truth." Merry shakes his head, but Pippin ignores this and asks, "Have you never noticed that we are always the ones told last?"

Well that is something Merry never thought of, but Pippin is too rash for his own good, and never seems satisfied with Gandalf's answers. When he goes looking, woe is bound to come his way. _What did Sam's old pater use to say_? Keep your nose out of trouble and no trouble will come to you. Yes that was it, and Merry thought it a fine piece of advice.

"Come on Merry, I see no harm in trying. This grove ain't dangerous, it can't hurt us." Merry keeps shaking his head, refusing to give. "Stop that, you look silly." Pippin scowls, his voice ireful. "Now are you coming or staying?" He asks, rolling onto his belly, smudging dirt into his jacket.

Merry can't help but feel safe here on the ground, away from the awful creeping trees and deep shadows. But as Pippin starts to crawl away to the edge of the firelight he curses silently and goes on after him, digging his knuckles into the cool earth. Oh how he wishes for an Elf's lightness of foot and a Dwarf's sense of direction. Who ever thought he would be on his belly groveling like a bug in the dirt, and all because of Pippin.

-()-

Walking past the high grass growing along the edge of natural trenches I catch the sound of small voices emanating from over the gentle slope to my right. I wonder if they could be Estel and Boromir, but these are too high pitched. Suddenly, they drift away on the wind.

Mithrandir walks only a few paces behind me, bearing his staff and peering under the brim of his tall hat. The wizards' footfalls are soundless among the drifting leaves floating on air, and his eyes are bright and keen. He sees more than most. I find it puzzling that he should choose such a configuration, but it befits him. There is a kindly manner about this one, and years of experience that go beyond Middle Earth to the Undying Lands.

"Legolas?" I stop to see that he is watching the trees to our left and return to his side immediately, grasping for the hilt of my knife, hidden by darkness.

"Is something the matter?"

He looks at me from the corner of his eye and inclines his bearded face. Lines gather around his eyes and mouth and he looks to the east. We both stand vigilant, the wind brushing Mithrandir's gray robes, rolling the fabric over. Smells of smoke and fire linger around us and I wonder if it comes from him or perhaps elsewhere.

Not a sound travels through the trees, but I hear the voices over the slope again and crane my neck to look at Mithrandir. He turns, waiting for someone to come over the little incline. I back into the shadows of a giant oak, watching as Mithrandir hefts his staff in the air and shouts loudly in the tongue of Men. The intruders do not answer. Cringing I swear silently and take a step forward, swaying with uncertainty.

But before either of us takes action however, two small shadows crown the slope, both strangely familiar. They seem to be leaning toward each other, arguing in tempered whispers. Someone curses loudly and one of the figures falls. I then hear the sweep of Mithrandir's robes and follow after him, listening to the voice of Merry chattering away heatedly.

"Fools the both of you!"

I'm not surprised to hear Mithrandir scowl, but I also see that his eyes are troubled by their appearance. The two Hobbits gap up at us from the ground, their faces smeared and scratched by reaching branches and barb bushes. I wonder how long they have been walking amongst the trees and if Estel might have discovered their tracks. Quickly I examine them both for any signs of major injury. Merry grabs his cousin's elbow, trying to assist him.

However, Pippin stands to brush his trousers clean, mumbling to himself and waving Merry away. I see that grass and dirt has matted into the comfortable fabric of his sleeves and jacket. Sensing my gaze he looks up and pulls a strange face. "We just wanted to see if you found anything out." He confesses loudly and unhappily. Merry digs his elbow into Pippin's side and the two glare at one another.

I feel better knowing nothing adverse has happened back at camp. Mithrandir's looks at them in amusement before he speaks in a low tone.

"The two of you have made enough noise to be heard miles off." He leans toward Pippin who makes an effort of showing a weak smile. Merry appears to be squirming with embarrassment. "And maybe something of a much more disturbing nature." Merry then stutters out a pardon.

"We're _really_ sorry Gandalf, we won't run off again." _Run off_? They both nod rather vigorously, the moonlight glowing in their bouncing, amber curls. I can't help but think otherwise. Merry might be sensible enough to realize that Mithrandir is only mocking them, but Pippin's sub-consciousness causes much concern.

But now another thought comes to me and I ask, "What of Gimli, was he not keeping watch over at camp?"

Merry looks thoughtful and a slowness overcomes his voice, "Naturally, but me and Pippin crawled away. I don't think he saw us leave. Otherwise, he would have followed us." Strangely this answer does not satisfy my interest and I narrow my gaze. How could the Dwarf not notice the absence of two Hobbits, especially the most misbehaving of the lot? Certainly even Gimli came keep track of such a small party.

Pippin appears hopeful, plucking at his pockets and peeling a wet leaf off his shoulder. Mithrandir shakes his head with a soft sigh and leans against his gnarled staff for support. I now remember the commotion he had noticed on our left and turn to face the trees, their limbs strangely dark again. The moonlight is retreating back into the shadows, though not as brilliant as before. Whispers can be heard and I recognize them as the soft heartbeat of bird's wings. The wildlife is returning.

I face Mithrandir who exhibits a knowing look in his eyes. "Let's get back before anyone else comes looking for us. Gimli might have already left, but I am uncertain." We all nod in agreement and begin the long walk. I don't suppose I'll ever grieve for the ending of such a night, but I will never fail to recall.

-()-

"Gimli, wake those two will you please. It is time we eat and then be on our way. Gods know we've all have had enough of this forsaken grove." Gandalf voice sounds scratched and strained as he says this. Clearly he received no sleep the night before and is in one of his poorest moods.

I throw some more wood on the fire, watching the seams pop open and twigs burn until blackened. Ash surrounds the whole area, flattened by Hobbit feet and Gimli's metal toe boots. My own shoes are lying out to dry.

Somewhere behind the woods I stepped into a creek the night before and had not realized it went so deep until the water reached my thighs. For some particular reason this amused a certain Ranger, and even after I bristled with irritation I still managed to laugh it off. It felt familiar at the time and I had thought of Faramir when we were young and foolish. But it also saddens me. I shrug it off.

Aragorn had gotten stuck in the mud, but struggled to leave as little destruction behind himself as possible. Thinking back on his strange reaction to the buck we found in that old tree I smile. He is gnawing on a hard piece of salted pork and Legolas is slicing bread for the Hobbits with a small knife he keeps tucked away somewhere on his person. But everyone in our little group has something to hide; even Sam surprised us with sugar cane naught two days ago. He is now being roused by Gimli and soon Frodo is sitting up, his hair mused and eyes leaden from sleep.

I look more closely at the ring bearer and see that there are two cloaks draped over his shoulders. Sam's generosity still manages to astound me. In the morning he fusses with pots and pans, cooks for us all a healthy breakfast, then sees that Frodo eats his share. During the evenings he walks either beside or behind his friend, but never in front. I do not think Frodo has realized the extra layers, not yet anyway.

"Come now master Hobbit, time to break your fast." Gimli says cheerfully, waving bread in front of their drained little faces.

Frodo and Sam accept the food silently and break it into smaller pieces to share amongst themselves equally while Legolas passes them strips of salted pork. We both watch for a moment as Frodo devours his meal with rare enthusiasm, unaware of our approving scrutiny. Sam also appears pleased by his friend's newfound appetite. I see that Gandalf is watching, his eyes wrinkled with thought.

"What was that all about last night Gandalf?" Pippin is sitting with his knees under himself, looking quite awake. I cannot help but think he is the bold one, especially after his fighting antics. Sam lets out a bit of air and Gimli frowns through his beard. I either missed an interesting exchange during our search or everyone is just unsettled by the events that took place in this grove as much as I.

Gandalf puffs his pipe sending smoke all about him, concealing his old face. "I am not certain why those things happened." He admits, "It was very black until the clouds moved away. It seems to me that this is a better best left alone." Pippin does not appear wholly satisfied, but remains quiet and lets the matter rest for the moment as he nibbles of more bread. Somehow I believe that Gandalf does not have an inkling as to what disturbed us and this troubles me greatly.

_Why did the animals disappear for so long? Why had the moon been so bright and eerie? _

Gimli inputs hurriedly, "Probably best we don't discuss it then. It was rather obscured to me anyway."

I hear someone making to rise and see Legolas moving away from his seat. I look to Aragorn for support, but as he meets my silent inquiry he drops his shoulders wordlessly. His eyes are darkened with concern. Gimli also stands, his strong hands griping a water skin and looks at us all. Somehow I see that we all brace ourselves for some impending argument. "I and the Elf will fill up all the empty carriers." He explains rather noisily, "If anyone needs us to take them to the creek please hand them over and we'll be more than happy to take care." Legolas recoils somewhat, clearly his mind is still struggling to register his latest experience. I wonder when they planned this.

Pippin and Merry oblige themselves, and Gandalf passes his over. I also surrender mine to Legolas, but Aragorn is the only one who does not move. I remember that he filled his skin the night before in the same creek that temporarily ruined my boots.

As the two turn to leave Sam goes to feed Bill a dry carrot and Gandalf begins answering Merry and Pippin's questions concerning the journey ahead.

Just then Aragorn decides to inspect our gear, but he turns to me and asks almost casually, "Do you wish me to check your boots to; the heels are beginning to look shabby." For a moment the question is amusing. When I look at his face however, I realize that he is quite serious. I now think that this Fellowship will always be a marvel to me.

-()-

Disclaimer; I do not own Lord of the Rings; the wonderful series rightfully belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien himself and his inheritors.


End file.
